


Heat

by restingkovicface



Series: Winnipeg [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: ??????? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Party, diner, idunno some other stuff too i guess, just read it its good i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restingkovicface/pseuds/restingkovicface
Summary: Ryan goes to a party.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wtf!!!!! This is my first, like, actual fic in a LONG time omg!!!!! be gentle!!!!!!!!!!!, 
> 
> Also follow me on Tumblr! :^)  
> restingkovicface

Ryan's never been much of a party guy.

He doesn't drink, listen to loud music, or really socialize at all, and never has. The quiet of being at home, working on his computer, was always much more appealing. If anyone asked him how he ended up in a stranger's house celebrating graduation with the rest of his class, he wouldn't be able to give them any explanation.

Maybe he was persuaded by his friends to come, but he can’t recall making friends with anyone that would pressure him into such a situation. Actually, he doesn’t remember becoming friends with anyone that goes to parties at _all_. Honestly, if he had to describe it, he would say it actually  feels more like an invisible presence influenced him to come; the kind of presence that fills your blood, moving you forward in whatever way it wanted. As he stands at the top of a staircase, looking down at all of the sea of college students drinking out of cliche red solo cups, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable, the whole scenario feels more and more unreal.

He feels his feet take him down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the backyard, where an adequately sized bonfire is blazing in the sweltering May heat. No one else is questioning the summer fire, so Ryan decides he shouldn’t either. There are people outside with him, but they all seem to have another person attached to them. Instead of staying with them, he walks around to the front of the house, fighting his way through decorative foliage around the side and picking up several carelessly discarded cups. The grass is a little wet, as southern grass always seems to be, so he takes a seat on the sidewalk instead.

It seems most of his peers weren't irresponsible enough to drive here tonight, so the street is almost clear of any vehicles that would block his view of the city road. It’s a lovely place, with nice houses and small yards, situated on some of the highest points in the city; the backyards provided excellent views of all the lights and buildings below them. Somehow it seems impossible to him that such a party could occur in such a nice neighbourhood; elaborately decorated houses made of outrageously expensive materials shouldn't be filled with this much alcohol, he thinks.

Although it's entirely possible that all parties are this way, and he's just ignorant. The closest thing he has to experience in this area of social interaction are stories his high school friends told him about sipping their parents vodka in the basement of one of their suburban houses and ordering pizza. Never anything to _this_ degree, where there are more people than Ryan’s ever seen hanging around, drinking more than just what they could hide from their parents. Even then he never imagined that he would enjoy himself at such a function.

And now, as he feels someone approach him from behind, he believes he was right.

“Did you down all of those yourself?” a man’s voice asks. Ryan looks down at the seven or eight cups he managed to collect and scoffs.

“Definitely not,” he answers, and the man chuckles, taking a seat beside Ryan on the cement, laying a jacket down between them.

Ryan turns to face his new visitor, and is thoroughly surprised. Even growing up in a town with, what he considers, a diverse cast of personalities, he, admittedly, has never seen someone so blatantly _different_. Ryan’s seen tattoos before, sure, but seeing arms almost completely covered in dark ink and intricate patterns was new. The tattoos continued, even past the hem of the man’s obscure punk band t-shirt’s sleeve. Ryan thinks, with an embarrassed sort of thrill, that he would like to see the rest of them.

He looks almost clean shaven, with black hair sticking up in every sort of direction imaginable. Looking at him makes Ryan subconsciously smooth down his own hair, which, at this point, is a bit too long for his liking.

“I’ve had a few myself,” the man admits. Sitting this close to him, Ryan can certainly tell. The burning aroma of whiskey is almost overpowering. “I’m Geoff by the way.” Geoff sticks his hand out, and Ryan shakes it.

“Ryan.”

“Well, Ryan, you don’t look like you’re having very much fun,” Geoff says. Then, after a beat, “You know, sitting outside all alone.”

Ryan smirks and looks down at his feet. “This isn’t really, you know, _my_ thing,” he admits, gesturing backwards to the increasingly loud party behind him.

Geoff smiles and nods. “It’s not really _my_ thing either. But, you know --” he lifts his own cup, sloshing the contents around dramatically -- “free alcohol.”

Ryan snorts. “Well, I also don’t drink.”

Geoff almost chokes on his drink, turning to Ryan incredulously. “You don’t _drink_ ?” Ryan shakes his head. “What the hell are you doing at a college party if _you don’t drink_?”

“It’s sort of my first party,” Ryan admits sheepishly. “Like… ever.”

Geoff stares at him blankly, not seeming to know what to say. Ryan attempts to fill the awkwardness with a gentle chuckle, but it doesn’t seem to help. When Geoff manages to find his words he says: “You’re telling me, that in all twenty four years of your life, you’ve _never_ not _once_ attended a party?”

“The closest I’ve ever been to a party is a group study session,” Ryan admits. Then, adds, “...last year.”

“Oh my God,” Geoff groans, putting his head in his hands. “Dude. That’s sad.” There’s a teasing tone in his voice.

“Why’s it sad?” Ryan half-yells defensively, “I’m at one now! That should count for something.”

Geoff throws his hands in the air. “You’re sitting outside on the sidewalk!” he argues. “Talking to a drunk stranger! Be adventurous!”

“Talking to strangers is adventurous!” Ryan argues back, immediately feeling the air thicken between the two of them. Geoff glances sideways at him, wearing what Ryan _thinks_ is a smirk.

“Am I an adventure, Ryan?” he asks coolly.

And, suddenly, Ryan feels like his heart might explode.

Flirting has never been his forte. Flirting with literal strangers that listen to punk music and drink whiskey and have tattoos is something completely foreign to him. Whether it’s the tension in the air or the sweet southern humidity seeping into Ryan’s skin, he feels an intense emptiness at the bottom of his stomach. It tethers his butt to the sidewalk and his words to his tongue, his mouth going dry.

Luckily, Geoff is much better at socializing. Geoff laughs it off, shoving one of Ryan’s knees to return them to their friendly banter. It helps. Ryan’s heart is still pounding loudly in his chest, even minutes later when Geoff is woozily standing up and brushing the dirt from the sidewalk off his black jeans. He sticks a hand out to Ryan, offering to help him stand. Ryan trusts himself more than Drunk Geoff, and manages to stand up on his own, bringing Geoff’s jacket along with him. Geoff takes it and puts it on, and then stretches widely, groaning loudly for the entire world to hear. He scrubs a hand over his face, in, what Ryan assumes to be, a fruitless attempt at sobering up.

“Hey,” he says to Ryan. “You drive?”

Ryan says yes.

“Cool,” Geoff says. He pulls a keyring from his pocket, and places it in Ryan’s open hand. “I need a burger.”

Ryan blinks at the keys in his hand; before he can protest, Geoff is already walking in the direction of his car. His long, languid steps are difficult to match, and Ryan feels like he’s almost trotting to keep up with him. Drunk though he may be standing up, Geoff is surprisingly steady on his feet as they make their way down one of the massive hills of the neighbourhood. He confidently leads Ryan to wherever they’re going, not seeming to stop or get confused or lost.

It feels like he doesn’t even have time to think as he follows Geoff into the night, the sounds of the house dissipating with distance until they’re almost completely gone. Street lamps illuminate the sidewalk in front of them, splashing the neatly kept yards and well kept pavement with a soft orange glow; if it weren’t for the oppressive heat of summer, Ryan would almost believe it were autumn. Nighttime in the city always seems to trick him that way.

Geoff’s completely-out-of-season attire could also be a factor in Ryan’s misinterpretations. Black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a heavily-patched jean jacket are entirely inappropriate for the weather, and Ryan can’t tell if that worries him or intrigues him -- and if the perspiration on his palms is anything to go by, it’s intrigue. Especially since, to Ryan’s knowledge, Geoff isn’t sweating at all. He looks more than comfortable in the heat, wearing the clothes like they’re not stuck to his skin like wet bandages.

They make it to the bottom of the biggest hill, where Geoff has parked his car. It is… unimpressive, to say the least. But, nonetheless, Geoff gestures to it with wide-open arms and an almost sarcastic grin. It’s an ugly matte black 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier, rusted in several places along the hood and on the roof. Ryan can tell the back window is duct taped closed, and there’s a large crack in the front windshield.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Geoff laughs, opening the passenger side door and sliding comfortably onto the cloth seat. Ryan takes his place on the driver’s side. “This car was made _fourteen_ fucking years ago. Can you believe that? It’s old as dicks, dude!”

Inside the car is, surprisingly, almost spotless. There are stains on the carpeted floor from what looks like food spills, and the rearview mirror is entirely gone, but, overall, it doesn’t look any more broken and dirty than any other college student’s car. It even smells like coconut.

“It’s the big one,” Geoff says when he notices Ryan fumbling to figure out which key goes into the ignition.

“Ah,” Ryan says, picking it out of the cluster. “Thanks.”

Geoff doesn’t reply. Instead he takes to rummaging around in the glove compartment, and comes out holding a very worn-looking cassette tape. Ryan raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Geoff exclaims defensively. “The CD player doesn’t work!”

Ryan just chuckles, shifting the car out of park and making his way out of the neighbourhood. He’s not surprised when offensively loud, disorienting music, of which Ryan cannot find the appeal, begins blaring out of the speakers.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” he exclaims, turning the radio down several notches. “Did they record this shit in a bathroom?”

Geoff stares at him, open mouthed, with a horrendously _offended_ look on his face.

“ _What_?” Ryan demands.

“I just -- I can’t,” Geoff flounders. “I just can’t believe you would even say that to me.”

Ryan shakes his head and stares at the road as he heads into the heart of the city. The same intrusive presence that led him outside of the party seems to be making the city glow in a way Ryan has never seen. All the lights appear to be pulsing, washing Geoff, who is singing _far_ too loudly to be socially acceptable, in a mix of neon lights that change the colour of his pale skin and white graphics on his t-shirt. The entire city looks almost deserted -- something Ryan’s never witnessed before. There’s never been a shortage of nightlife downtown. Maybe that same invisible presence that led him to the party is making him imagine things, but it almost feels like the city is _supposed_ to be empty, like it’s open for Geoff and him to explore on their own.

Geoff doesn’t give him any directions, so Ryan takes to cruising around. Although Geoff’s car looks like a shitty beater, it drives pretty well. The brakes work fine, and the AC, all without the radiator exploding or the transmission falling out of the car. If Ryan goes too quickly, the right side of the car begins to shake violently, so he makes sure to go slow. Geoff doesn’t seem to notice his hunger anymore, and has instead begun calling out every billboard he spies, as if Ryan is incapable of reading. But, Ryan really doesn’t mind. It’s better than the singing.

Eventually, regardless of how smoothly the car has been going so far, the gas gauge is becoming alarmingly low. Geoff tells him to pull over at the nearest gas station, and Ryan does so obediently, pulling up beside a gas pump furthest from the road.

“How do I look?” Geoff asks seriously, turning completely in his seat to face Ryan.

Ryan’s throat swells at the question. Geoff’s hair is somehow messier, sticking up wildly in ways Ryan has never seen. His eyes look bloodshot, and the buttons on the cuffs of his jacket are undone.

“Good,” he answers honestly. Geoff grins.

“Great!” Geoff exclaims, slapping Ryan on the shoulder. “Be right back.”

With that, he exits the car and heads towards the inside of the gas station, leaving Ryan and his increasingly moist hands alone in the car.

The AC is cranked all the way up, but the heat in the car is almost unbearable. He rolls down his window and catches his reflection in the left wing mirror. He looks exactly the way he did when he left his room that evening -- dark blue shirt, hair combed back, slight bags under his eyes from countless nights filled with hours of studying and building his computer in place of getting a good night’s rest. Nothing about him has changed, except for everything.

Since when has he been the type of person to get in the car with a stranger? To drive a stranger’s car? A _drunk_ stranger? A drunk stranger that he’s undeniably interested in? And since _when_ does he develop crushes on people he’s known for less than three hours? That he met at a _party_ ? That has fucking _tattoos_ for Christ’s sake! He hasn’t been himself, ever since he made the decision to put on real pants and leave his bedroom.

He almost jumps out of his skin when Geoff knocks on the passenger side window, motioning for Ryan to pop the tank cover. Ryan hasn’t been himself. And, as he watches Geoff lean against the side of the car and pump gas, clad in all black and patches and studs and punk band logos, he’s happy that he hasn’t.

Geoff returns to the car, elegantly falling into the passenger seat. He’s purchased a snack cake from the gas station in, what he eloquently explains to be, an attempt at sobering up so they don’t get kicked out of the restaurant before he can eat his burger. Ryan nods approvingly, pulling out of the gas station in the direction of the nearest all-night diner.

Conveniently, there’s a Waffle House stationed less than a mile down the road, all glowing yellow lights and almost empty parking lot. Ryan pulls in, happily parking in the far end of the lot. They both clamber out of the car, drunk Geoff somehow more graceful than sober Ryan, and make their way into the restaurant. Geoff calls out “dibs” on the corner booth, catching the attention of the staff and all the four other customers there. Ryan sits across from him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at Geoff’s disregard for societal expectations.

“Geoff, you’re so loud,” Ryan states, half-smiling at Geoff’s lazy slump against the wall of the building, legs thrown up carelessly on the rest of the seat.

“I’m an _adventure_ , Ryan,” Geoff corrects. Heat rises in Ryan’s face again, completely abashed at the memory. Of course, he hadn’t said _exactly_ that, but… it was true. That’s exactly what he’d meant. And what he’d meant was entirely sincere. Geoff is an incredible adventure -- even if all they’ve done so far is drive around listening to music and get gas. Just being around him fills Ryan with an almost electric thrill. He’s never met someone like Geoff, and someone like Geoff has never shown an interest in Ryan before.

He’s nerdy and awkward, doing nothing but engrossing himself in his work, trying to learn everything he can about computers. The only mildly interesting thing he’s ever done in his _life_ is be apart of his theatre class, and that took almost no effort.

_Yes_ , Ryan says to himself. _You certainly are._

Their waitress, an older woman, maybe 40, if Ryan had to guess, with thick, grey streaked hair pulled into a tight bun and heavy smile lines, sashays over to their booth, looking overly-exhausted with slightly smeared mascara under her eyes, ready to take their order. Geoff smiles wolfishly up at her.

“Howdy,” he flirts playfully. She rolls her eyes, clearly uninterested in Geoff’s drunken advances.

“I’m older than your mom, kid,” she says. “Can I get y’all some drinks?”

Geoff scoffs but stays smiling. “Yeah, I’ll have an Irish coffee,” he tells her.

“Okay,” she says, turning to Ryan. “One _regular_ coffee. What’ll you have?”

“Just sweet tea,” he tells her.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She leaves without giving Geoff a second glance, a gesture to which Geoff pouts heavily.

Ryan chuckles under his breath looking at him. His jacket has come off and is now laying dutifully across the width of their table, allowing Ryan to catch a better look at the tattoos that were concealed in the car. He spies random things, like a compass on his left arm, and another design on his right that is hard to decipher with it being mostly covered by Geoff’s shirt sleeve. Regardless, it’s satisfying to see them clearly now, in the white fluorescent light of the diner.

In fact, it’s satisfying to see Geoff’s _face_ clearly. He’s got a light stubble on his cheeks and under his chin, which only accentuates the paleness of his cool ivory skin. His eyes are framed by dark, heavy eyelids; that, coupled with his recklessly messy hair and old, wrinkled shirt, gives the overall impression that he’s just woken up. Ryan would believe he had, if it weren’t for how incredibly alert his icy blue eyes are.

Geoff’s face splits into a grin when he catches Ryan looking at him. “I know, I’m pretty, right?” he jokes. Ryan laughs, but feels his ears go hot regardless.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘strange,’” Ryan retorts.

“Hey!” Geoff yells. “I don’t look _strange_.”

“Yikes,” Ryan says teasingly, looking away from Geoff. Geoff stammers over his words in disbelief at Ryan’s statement, throwing Ryan into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles.

The waitress returns with their drinks while Geoff is sulking over Ryan’s bullying. Geoff’s coffee is _not_ Irish, obviously, but Ryan’s tea looks delicious.

“Are y’all ready to order?” she asks politely.

“Yeah,” Geoff starts, throwing a hurt look at Ryan. “I’ll have the double angus cheeseburger. With mushrooms. And lettuce. And gravy. And jalapenos. With a side of hash browns, covered and smothered.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “I’ll just have a pecan waffle, with some bacon.” The waitress nods approvingly, clicking her pen and walking off.  Ryan watches as Geoff puts two packs of creamer in his coffee and sips it approvingly. He looks considerably less drunk at this point, with his bloodshot eyes calming down, turning back white and giving him a much more handsome appearance.

Geoff doesn’t say anything as he drinks his coffee, with both elbows on the table, his pale, uninked hands blending effortlessly into the porcelain colour of his coffee mug. Surprisingly, even without the presence of small talk, Ryan doesn’t feel uncomfortable with the silence. It’s almost too easy to be relaxed around Geoff -- especially for Ryan, considering he hasn’t been on any semblance of a date since high school.

Which… Ryan can’t exactly tell _what_ this is. Whether or not it’s a sort of date, or just a drunken dinner with a new friend, is information Ryan almost _desperately_ needs. Geoff sets down his coffee with a satisfied smack of his lips. The heat of it made his lips red and puff up with heat. Ryan sips his tea more purposefully.

“This is a good first date, huh?” Geoff prompts teasingly. Ryan doesn’t trust himself to say anything without making him seem like an idiot, so he keeps his mouth closed. Geoff is unaffected, continuing on with what he was saying. “God, I wish my last first date had gone this well.”

“This is going well?” Ryan says before he can stop himself.

“Well compared to the _last_ time I spent time alone with someone, hell yes. This is going loads better.” He sits back in his seat.

“I feel like that’s an exaggeration,” Ryan jokes, sipping the last of his sweet tea down.

“It’s not!” Geoff argues defensively. “Okay, look--” he leans in closer “--we’d been flirting back and forth for _weeks_ , right? Just like harmless stuff -- Office flirting. Well, eventually I grow the dick to… further our relationship,” he says the last part almost lasciviously. “So I buy us tickets to some play the school was hosting, and they _lose their mind_. I’ve never seen someone so excited for a fucking school play. But whatever, that’s not the point. I walk to their dorm to get them, and we walk to the theatre together. Everything’s fine, we’re flirty, I’m being charmingly suggestive. But, when we get there, find our seats, and the play starts, their entire demeanor changes! I haven’t done anything wrong, it’s just -- I don’t know! They didn’t even look at me, they were too focused on the asshole dressed up as fucking Hamlet’s boyfriend or whoever-the-fuck, swooning every time he had a line.”

Ryan almost refuses to believe it. “When was this?”

Geoff shrugs, picking up his coffee again. “I don’t know. Last year? Maybe 2003? I didn’t talk to them after that, they moved across the classroom the next day.”

Ryan clears his throat and looks down at the table. ‘’Yeah…” he trails off.

“What?” Geoff asks, suddenly suspicious.

“That uh… My bad,” he cringed.

“ _What_?” Geoff demands again.

“I was Horatio,” Ryan admits in a half-whisper.

Geoff’s face warps from something like disbelief to astonishment to anger to disbelief yet again. But, as if she was waiting for the perfect time to sweep in, their waitress returns, holding their food in her hands and placing it between Geoff and him. “Enjoy,” she says simply, smiling at Ryan sweetly, before sashaying away again.

Geoff grumbles something along the lines of “You’re lucky I’m hungry” before taking a monstrous bite of his burger.

Ryan tries to dive into his waffle, drenching it in strawberry syrup before taking a huge bite. Usually his sweet tooth is insatiable, but, now, he feels almost too nervous to eat. Geoff has no problem, of course, tackling the burger, dripping gravy, with both hands and no hesitation. He nibbles on his bacon instead.

Geoff, halfway finished with his burger already, sets it down on his plate and wipes his hands off with a napkin. “So,” he begins, staring at Ryan. “Tell me about _Ryan_.”

“Uh,” Ryan begins, chewing his bacon a little more furiously. “What do you wanna know?”

“What’s your major?” Geoff says, leaning forward and propping his head up on one hand, doing his best impersonation of every boring college boy that Ryan’s ever run into.

“Computer Engineering,” Ryan tells him. “You know… computer stuff.”

“Huh,” Geoff says. “What’cha plan on doing with that?”

Ryan shrugs, mildly insecure about his choice of education. “I don’t really know. I haven’t decided yet, really.”

Geoff nods, and begins forking at his hash browns absentmindedly.

“What’s _your_ major?” Ryan shoots back to move the focus off of him.

“English,” Geoff answers quickly. “You know… word stuff,” he adds half-mockingly.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “And what are you going to do with that?”

“I dunno,” Geoff explains powerfully.

“Cool,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes. “Good talk.”

They spend the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence. Ryan’s able to work his way through half of his waffle, and Geoff wolfs down the rest of his food like he’s never eaten before. They each pay the full price of what they ordered and before Ryan can blink they’re back in Geoff’s car. This time, Geoff’s behind the wheel, having sobered up significantly. Ryan doesn’t let the music get nearly as loud, but Geoff doesn’t seem to mind. Ryan’s able to navigate his way back to his own car.

There’s a hesitance in Ryan’s bones to get out of the beat up old car, wanting to spend even _more_ time with Geoff. He’s afraid that it’s the last time he’ll see the other man for God knows how long. He swallows his feelings and opens the door quickly. Geoff gives Ryan a gentle sort of look, and pulls him into a quick hug before Ryan can step out of the car. “Hey,” Geoff says, making Ryan turn around.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever decide to go to any more parties, look for me,” Geoff says, half-joking. Ryan laughs.

“I’ll be sure to do that. Bye, Geoff.”

“Bye,” Geoff says.

Maybe Ryan’s mistaken, but he almost sounds _sad_ when he says it. But before Ryan can address it Geoff is speeding off down the street away from him. Even as Ryan watches Geoff’s glowing tail lights gain more and more distance from him, there’s still a lingering sort of magic hanging in the air. It’s clinging to the areas on Ryan’s arms and back, the places Geoff squeezed while giving him his hug. The hairs on the back of his head and lower arms are standing at attention.

Ryan briefly wonders when it got so cold.

**Author's Note:**

> ALSO I know this says it's part of a series, but my continuation of this series is entirely dependent upon the response I get from this. I would love to continue writing it, and I have tons of ideas, but if no one reads it... what's the point, really? Ya know? 
> 
> SOOOOOOO be sure to leave a comment/kudos telling me what you think! :^)


End file.
